


He was shaking in his seat, Riding through the streets

by allrounderinsane



Series: Release [2]
Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-04-21 22:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14295117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allrounderinsane/pseuds/allrounderinsane
Summary: It's the time of their lives, for two newly international cricketers. On opposite sides of the world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Paul Kelly's 'To Her Door'

After Joe’s flight leaves, to Johannesburg, then London, then Leeds, Mitch also finds himself on a plane, heading to Pretoria for the semi-final at Centurion. He’s sitting next to Pat. Mitch tries not to watch his younger teammate. Still, he can tell out of the corner of his eye that he’s staying on his phone for as long as he can, before he finally has to switch it off and stow it in his bag.  
“Becky’s coming on a later plane,” Pat tells Mitch, even though he didn’t ask.  
He leans back in his seat.  
“You seem quite serious with each other,” Mitch notes, without thinking.  
Pat’s face lights up and he hits that he’s hit some truth.

Mitch’s eyes pan up to meet Pat’s.  
“Yeah,” he confirms, a little breathless.   
There’s certainly something beautiful about how Pat has fallen hard and fast, something that Mitch wants to encourage as much as he can, given that he’s fallen into the role of agony uncle.

“I think that I’m in love with her,” he confesses.  
Mitch’s eyes still widen, even though that’s what he’s already began to suspect. He lets out a laugh.  
“Yep,” Mitch confirms. “Anyone could tell that.”  
Pat pulls an expression of slight bemusement and he’s concerned that he’s been dismissed.

“I’m really happy for you, Pat,” Mitch insists, feeling wise. “It’s a wonderful thing.”  
Pat grins. Mitch imagines that his heart would be thumping, just thinking about her, in light of the fact that it’s still so new and giddy, and they’re in a foreign country for them both. He brushes his hand against Pat’s shoulder.  
“I’m just thinking,” he admits, “that she’s from England.”  
“That’s alright,” Mitch insists with a smile. “You’ll work it out.

+

Joe gets to Johannesburg for a brief stopover. It’s barely an hour after leaving Durban and he reckons that Mitch will still be in the air. If not, Joe reckons that he’ll probably be just as busy at Cape Town Airport for his own swapping of flights. Therefore, he doesn’t feel so guilty about not taking the time to get in touch, beyond a brief text message: In Joburg. London then Leeds and my own bed in the morning. Good luck for finals. Joey  
Joe doesn’t receive a message back before he has to switch his phone back onto flight mode. He checks his watch and realises that they’ve been unlucky – Mitch will likely land just after Joe takes off again, for his international flight back to London.

“Ready to go?” he checks of Jonny, who’s scurrying back to the line.  
“Yep,” he confirms, handing over a clear plastic bag with something inside.  
Joe studies it.  
“Headphones,” Jonny explains. “Free headphones. Isn’t that cool?”

“Yes,” Joe confirms, his grin cheeky. “It means that I won’t have to listen to your snoring.”  
Jonny scoffs, pretending that he’s hurt.  
“And I won’t have to listen to you snore,” he retorts, for lack of anything better to say.  
Joe raises his chin and scoffs with mock disgust.  
“I don’t snore,” he insists. “To the contrary, I provide a gentle rhythm for everybody else to snore too.”  
Jonny chuckles, as Joe laughs too, grinning. He places his hand on Joe’s shoulder as they both walk forward to board their flight.

“That’s true, actually,” Jonny confirms, conceding the banter. “You’re not that bad at all, Joe.”  
“Thank you,” Joe replies, smiling.   
Both Yorkshiremen show their boarding passes to the woman behind the desk, so that they can walk down the ramp and onto the plane. Once they pass over, Joe can hear the whirring of the machinery, before he and Jonny track down their seats.  
“Have you ever considered being a pilot?” Joe asks.  
“No,” Jonny admits, “not really. Have you?”  
“Maybe when I was younger,” Joe confesses, “but I think I’ll stick to being a cricketer for now.”

+

Once he’s settled into his hotel room in Pretoria, Mitch isn’t which sure what to do next. His phone is on the charger and some of his clothes are unpacked into the wardrobe, which shows a level of commitment which he hopes will be a good omen. Mitch whistles to himself while he tries to think. It’s their travel day, so they’re not training and he doesn’t think that there’s enough time for sight-seeing. Mitch doesn’t feel tired, however, so he decides to head off wandering. He takes his room key with him and heads downstairs. Mitch isn’t wearing any shoes, the tiled floor of the hotel lobby cool against his arches. He likes the sensation, cooling his whole body down from the heat of outside. Mitch hopes that it won’t be quite so sticky when they play, but he thinks that his wish will be granted, given that it’s a night game.

Standing by the doors, looking over the map on the wall, he notices Pat. To begin with, he keeps his distance, then finally approaches.  
“Are you trying to make a break for it or something?” Mitch remarks with a chuckle.  
Pat startles, turning around awkwardly in a manner that probably not wise.  
“Sorry,” Mitch apologises. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”  
“No worries,” Pat insists.  
He laughs a little sheepishly, looking down briefly towards the floor. Pat’s wearing shoes, Mitch notices.

“You’re sort of right, though, you know,” he confesses. “I’m trying to work out how to get back to the airport, to get Becky.”  
Mitch is delighted by just how in love his young teammate is. It’s cute, not that he’d say that to Pat, because it’ll sound a little condescending.  
“Well,” Mitch replies, “I’m sure that it’s not that hard to get back there, if that’s what you want to figure out.”  
Pat smiles, eyes widened a little more than usual, which makes him look sort of startled.  
“Yeah,” he confirms. “That’s what I’d like to do. The problem is, the airport’s at the opposite end of Pretoria.”

A plan comes into Mitch’s mind and, once it does, it’s hard for him to shake. He senses that Pat’s noticed that he’s thinking of something, given the parting of his lips.  
“I was just thinking,” Mitch offers, “that we could take the team bus for a spin. We might have to bring some others with us.”  
Pat rushes towards him, wrapping him into a brief hug. Mitch smiles, feeling pleased that his idea seems to have been accepted.  
“That’s awesome,” Pat praises, “if we’re allowed.”  
Mitch casually shrugs his shoulders.

“I’m sure if we asked the right way,” he assures.  
Mitch has heard stories from Alyssa about the adventures the women’s team get up to using their bus.  
“Alright, then,” Pat replies. “I’ll do the asking. I mean, it was your idea, but we’re doing it for me.”  
“Alright,” Mitch agrees. “I’m happy with that.”  
Pat nods his head. When he walks off, Mitch follows him, then looks down to his feet. He knows that he shouldn’t abandon his friend. Still, Mitch reckons that he will have to be wearing shoes. As they reach the lift, Pat presses the button and notices Mitch’s bare feet in the meantime.

“You can go and get some shoes while I ask, if you want,” he permits.  
“Thanks,” Mitch replies as the lift doors open with a ping. “I would appreciate that, if you’re alright on your own.”  
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Pat insists, “but thanks anyway, Mitch.”  
The two of them step back into the lift.   
“You’re most welcome, Pat,” Mitch replies with a smile.  
He leans forward and presses the button. The doors close once again.

+

It’s just before midnight when Joe arrives back in London. With the rest of his Yorkshire teammates, they’ve been allowed a night’s stopover. It’s a little sombre when they arrive at their hotel. Joe’s rooming with Jonny, as usual, and neither of them bothers to turn on the light. It’s been a long day’s travelling back to England, after missing out on the semi-finals. Joe and Jonny both get into their own single beds. He’s holding his phone in his hand, reacquainting it to being back home again, even though they’re not quite back to Leeds.  
“Jonny,” Joe whispers.  
“Yes, Joe,” Jonny replies.

“Do you mind if I call Mitch?” Joe requests.  
He sits up a little, just in case Jonny would rather he move into the bathroom, or out into the hallway, so that he can get some much-needed sleep before their early-morning flight back to Leeds the next day. It wouldn’t be the first time that Joe’s made sure that he calls Mitch, to tell him that he’s safe and hoping that he’s enjoying his cricket. Still, this is all the more important, on account of the fact that they don’t know when they will see each other next. Really, it’s the first time since they’ve met back in May.

“Yes, that’s fine,” Jonny permits, also speaking in a hushed tone. “I trust you not to scream and shout.”  
He adjusts his pillow as he rolls over, lying on his side and facing the wall. Joe’s glad, but he hesitates, and ultimately decides to stay in bed with his phone, making sure to keep his voice down.  
“Thanks, Jonny,” Joe replies, then makes the call and waits for Mitch to answer.  
He hopes that he will, given that it’ll be just as late at night back in South Africa. Actually, it might be a little earlier. Joe’s not quite sure about the time difference. He needs to recalibrate himself, but that can, like many things, wait until the morning dawns.

Mitch, on the other hand, cannot. There’s a smile on Joe’s lips, owing to his excitement about speaking with his friend and hearing how his own travel day has been. Mitch hasn’t had so far to travel, only from Durban to Pretoria via Cape Town.  
“Hello, Joey,” he greets him, answering the call.  
Joe smiles at the sound of Mitch’s voice.  
“Back on dry land?” Mitch asks.  
Joe chuckles.  
“Yeah,” he confirms, “but I did catch a plane.”

“I know,” Mitch affirms, laughter in his tone.  
In the other bed, Joe can already hear Jonny snoring softly.  
“I’m assuming that you made it to Pretoria in one piece,” he guesses.  
Joe wouldn’t be speaking to Mitch otherwise, he’s tired enough to think.

“Yeah, we’ve been in the hotel for a while now,” Mitch confirms, “but we’ve been out again.”  
That doesn’t surprise Joe.  
“We needed to go back to the airport to collect Patty’s lover,” Mitch adds.  
“The Yorkshire lass,” Joe points out.

Truth be told, he can’t recall her name.  
“You know,” Joe teases, “that seems quite serious. Maybe you should suggest that Aussie Pat comes and plays with us Yorkies.”  
Over the line, he can hear Mitch, maybe scoffing, maybe laughing. Joe waits for him to speak to know what he means. Surely he’ll like another amigo to add to the Yorkshire cartel.  
“And then, they could get married,” Joe tests his luck, “and he could play for England.”  
Now he knows that Mitch is laughing at him, with good reason.  
“Do you reckon you could fix that up before India?” Joe quips, obviously too tired for reason, that he’s matchmaking an Australian teenager who he barely knows. “It’s still two months away, that’s enough time.”  
“In your dreams, mate,” Mitch retorts, jovially.


	2. Chapter 2

Mitch and Pat are sitting together on the balcony. They are the next two into bat for the Sydney Sixers, in their semi-final run chase. At the moment, they are six wickets down, just after Moises’ dismissal. Mitch is tense, yet Pat beside him still manages to be smiling, albeit perhaps with nerves. It’s a knockout match, after all, and it’s getting close.  
“Mitch,” Pat speaks up.  
It’s at the moment when he looks to his side that he hears a roar around the ground. Mitch’s eyes quickly dart back to the pitch. The Titans crowd in around their successful bowler, as Nathan McCullum starts to trudge off the field.

Pat places on his helmet, then rises to his feet.  
“Go well, Patty,” Mitch encourages.  
“Thanks, Mitch,” Pat replies, suddenly looking as anxious as Mitch fields.  
He only nods his head once while Pat leaves him, to head for the crease.

Pat and Nathan McCullum pass each other on the way to, and from, the centre wicket. Mitch knows how Pat will be feeling. They have both been equally culpable, at the end of the first innings. Perhaps if Mitch and Pat had executed their own skills with more precision, the match could already be over. He hits his first ball, a swinging delivery, wide of long-on. Pat secures a single which brings Ben back onto strike, brought in to strengthen the batting. He plays a solid drive, yet straight along the turf to short cover. Ben lashes at the short ball he next receives for one run, before the third man fielder is brought up for Pat. Perhaps they’re fearing his shot over the imaginary slip cordon, one which Mitch knows he can play. He thinks, though, that it must be a badly kept secret. Mitch hunches forward and grabs one of his gloves, so that he won’t chew on his fingernails. The ball smacks into Pat’s body as he tries to replicate Ben’s pull shot. They scurry through for a leg bye. Twenty-nine runs required for the Sydney Sixers to reach the Champions League final, with just nineteen deliveries remaining in the match.

+

Mitch walks down the wicket, to slow the game down. Perhaps it’s a tactic, some kind of gamesmanship. Mitch is willing to be guilty as charged if that’s the case. Pat’s at the other end, which could make him the senior batsman in this partnership, given that he’s older. Mitch trusts Pat, though, and knows that he’s half-decent with the bat, as well.  
“Whatever happens, we’re running,” he insists, under his breath.  
Pat bobs his head.  
“Alright,” he agrees.  
Pat turns around and heads back to the non-striker’s head.

There are two balls remaining and two runs left for the Sixers to win. There are two wickets in hand, Joshy wanting around anxiously in the dressing rooms already clad in pads and helmet, in case he’s needed. Mitch hopes that he won’t be, but that’s nothing against his bowling colleague. He wants to get the job done himself, himself and Pat, who got Sydney into this tight battle in the first place. Mitch faces his first ball, from CJ de Villiers. He sucks in a strangled breath when it’s pitched short. The ball bounces off Mitch’s arm and he and Pat sprint through for a leg bye. One to win. Pat’s on strike, waiting, while captain and wicketkeeper are fighting. They’re slowing the game down, without Mitch having to. Pat is beaten by the slower bouncer and he and Mitch scramble through, balls, bats and fielders crashing everywhere in a blur of adrenaline and exuberance that Mitch can’t completely recall. When Pat’s arms are around him, he knows that victory’s been recorded. By some miracle, they’ve pulled this off, off the very last ball.

\+ 

When Mitch returns to the hotel, he checks the clock. He’s not even sure which time that makes it in South Africa, let alone in opposite corners of the world. Mitch stumbles over to his bed. He slumps onto it, cursing aloud that he bothered to make it that morning, then convulses in a fit of giggles. When Mitch finally rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, he’s a little breathless. Mitch sits up just enough to shake the straps of his arms. His backpack eventually falls onto the floor. Mitch watches it for a moment and thinks of what might be in there that he might need. His phone; that’s what’s there. That’s what Mitch is after, because he’s got calls to make. He does know, deep down, that the people he cares about will already know about the result of the semi-final. Mitch doesn’t have to personally ring them up and tell them, but he wants to speak to them nonetheless.  
“Hello.” He knows that he sounds drunk.  
“Hi, Mitch,” a voice responds and Mitch can’t quite tell who he’s rung.


	3. Chapter 3

It turns out to be just after the school run back in Sydney, just the right time for Mitch to have called his mother. There’s a smile on his lips as he hears about the happenings back home. It will be perfect timing, when Mitch returns to Australia. Alyssa’s already moved herself into the apartment that they’ve bought together, and then he can join her after South Africa. Mitch reckons that he ought to call her next. He’s a bit too drunk and sleepy, after the match, then the celebrations, to do much of the talking. Still, Alyssa’s filled with energy. It’s just what Mitch needs, to lie down and listen to her voice, which is gently soothing to him. Alyssa’s already started her season for New South Wales.

Mitch tells her that he wishes that he could have been there. His tone of voice brings pause to Alyssa, and it’s only then that he realises what he’s done, that’s he’s implied that he doesn’t want to be where he is. Mitch rambles to justify himself until Alyssa is laughing. It’s only then that he’s confident that no offence has been caused. Then, Mitch quietens, wearing a dopey smile. He provides Alyssa with silence so that she can speak once again. She tells him all about their matches, in the Blacktown heat with only traffic noise. Mitch interjects, that he wishes that she could have the world. Alyssa thanks him, which gives him the comfort to slide his head down the plump pillow.

Mitch needs to be very careful. He can’t fall asleep just yet, so he tells Alyssa that he’s rather tired, given the hour and the match. She says that she’ll know, if he stops talking. Mitch is grinning as he closes his eyes, letting her serenade him off to sleep with details from the cricket. He can almost imagine Alyssa right there. Her calloused fingers are stroking over Mitch’s hair. Alyssa’s brushing against his ear, then he realises that’s his phone. Mitch laughs out loud, then must explain this to Alyssa, who chuckles even louder and pretends to mock him. He does wish, after all, that he could be home with her. Once Mitch can be, they will have a home of their own to share. It shocks him, suddenly sober, that it makes him more grownup than he’s realised.

+

Twenty-one runs for the Sydney Sixers to win the Champions League, from fifty-four deliveries, with ten wickets in hand – yet still Mitch is nervous. He’s sitting beside Pat, whose body is rigid, with their teammates around them. Hadds flicks the ball away to bring up a century partnership with Lumby, the Englishman from Nottinghamshire. There’s a smatter of applause around the ground. Still, Mitch can sense that the local crowd are a little dejected. Hadds retains the strike for an over bowled by Dirk Nannes, which convinces him that the Lions must feel like their number is nearly up. Maybe the match is gone already, but Mitch doesn’t want to be that confident just yet.

He knows all that can go wrong, even though the Sydney Sixers haven’t tasted anything like that for a long while, not in their time in South Africa. Even when Hadds miscues his pull shot, it lands safe of the fielder. The gasp in the ground comes from Sydney, not the crowd. Their excitement has been extinguished, already beginning to leave the Wanderers to beat the traffic home. Hadds is beaming even when he’s beaten by unexpected bounce. It hits Mitch that he must be really enjoying himself, becoming reacquainted with the simple delight of playing cricket – with freedom, without fear. With overs in hand, Hadds shuffles across and defends, knowing just the game that he needs to play.

Really, he just has to not get out, and the runs will come, especially considering the unexpectedly poor quality of the fielding from the South African outfit. Hadds finally achieves a single, though. Lumby does the same, reading the pace of a slower ball, a stock delivery from Nannes, so that he can clip it away. Mitch beams, as Hadds clubs the ball to the boundary, bringing them closer to victory. Pat applauds too, although he’s grimacing a little. In three deliveries, the match is over – six, six, four as Lumby dismisses the length of the ball and hits it high into the Johannesburg crowd, again and again before racing along the turf to third man.

As soon as the ball has beaten the field, Mitch jumps to his feet with jubilation, pulling his teammates into a warm embrace of victory, which is replicated by Hadds and Lumby mid-pitch. Holding onto each other, they race down the stairs. Mitch doesn’t even feel the pain when he bumps his head against the roof of the race. The Sixers’ players emerge out into the cool night air, rushing onto the field to meet their successful batsmen. Hadds is calm and collected. Yet, Mitch is confident the smile won’t leave his face for a while. The feeling’s mutual, because he feels like, even though this hasn’t been what he’s dreamed of, they’ve been invincible.

Mitch isn’t sure whether they’ll ever feel that again. It’s for that reason that he chooses to savour it while it lasts. They wrap each other up, somewhere on the outfield, for what must only be seconds, but feels to Mitch like minutes. His arm is around Pat, making sure to be gentle with him. He knows that his back has been sore. Still, that’s just life as a fast bowler. Nonetheless, while Mitch knows pain is to be expected, he’s still sympathetic. They scream, the clear air of Johannesburg rushing into his lungs. Finally, they part. Mitch is forced to turn to the Lions, muting his smile in the face of their disappointment. They exchange handshakes. It’s not long, though, before Mitch, along with his teammates, is showered with confetti and champagne, trophy in their hands.

+

When Joe’s wandering home from the pub, he calls Mitch. He nestles his phone against his ear. Joe listens to the rings, hoping that his friend will answer. Eventually, though, the call rings out.  
“Hi there, you’ve called Mitch Starc,” his recorded voice speaks. “I’ll get back to you. Bye.”  
There’s a loud tone.

“Hi, Mitch,” Joe responds to it, almost a little startled. “Congratulations, hey? That’s awesome. I’m so happy for you.”  
He pauses when he reaches the kerb, trying to think of more to say.  
“Anyway, well done, Mitch,” Joe adds. “Bye.”  
He ends the call before stepping off onto the road, crossing the street to where his apartment is located. It’s up the stairs, in a brick building surrounded by plants. At that time, though, it’s dark enough for everything to blend together. Joe fetches his keys from the pocket of his jeans. He first uses them to unlock the glass door, to the small foyer of the building. Then, with his teeth, Joe selects the correct key, the other one, for his front door, and prods it into the lock before twisting it so that the door pops ajar. When he steps inside, his flat is cold and empty, but he doesn’t feel alone.

+

Mitch is thankful for a direct flight home booked for the late afternoon. It might be almost twelve hours in the air, but he gets a sleep-in after partying the night away. Once he awakes, Mitch packs himself up in a South African hotel. It’s the very last time on tour, and he wheels his bag downstairs to get packed onto the bus, the one which he and Pat took to collect his new girlfriend from the airport, after Joe went home. Mitch spots them saying goodbye to each other, hiding almost out of view. He turns away, wanting to afford the young lovers some privacy, given that Pat’s heading home to Australia and Becky’s continuing on the trip of a lifetime, without him. Josh scoffs and bumps into Mitch’s shoulder, prompting him to look up.

He’s pointing towards Becky and Pat, also having spotted their passionate lip-lock.   
“You’d think that he hasn’t been fed in a mouth,” Josh quips under his breath, “that he feels like he has to eat her face.”  
Mitch laughs quietly, just to be polite, then climbs onto the bus. He heads straight for the back seat, the unofficial home of the fast bowler’s cartel. Josh joins him. Mitch says nothing. As the rest of the bus begins to fill up with their teammates, Pat is finally spotted onboard. Josh begins to wolf-whistle, but he pauses, when he notices just how gingerly Pat is moving. 

Usually, it would be a figure of fun. Yet, Mitch knows the same as Josh, that Pat’s injury is nothing to be joked about. He’s reaching out to help him into place, placing himself between Josh and Pat.  
“I’ve told the doc,” Pat admits, eyes wide with fear.  
He looks like he hasn’t slept. Again, usually Josh would make jokes about that and he probably already has, prior to the final and Pat’s overwhelming soreness. Mitch nods his head slowly with understanding. He briefly flicks his eyes over to Josh, who’s hunched over, looking concern. They strap themselves in, as the drive to the airport begins.

Mitch rests his hand on Pat’s shoulder to offer feeble comfort. He looks through the window, flooded with afternoon sun. Mitch soaks in his last views of South Africa during the trip of just under half an hour. In the distance, he spots the floodlights of the Wanderers and silently bids them goodbye. They pass plenty of parkland, including a golf course which Mitch and Joe have tried out earlier in the tournament. He’ll have to return his call before he gets on the plane. That has been lovely to Joe, to keep in touch and congratulate him. They’re already keeping their promises to each other, which is all that he can ask for, and demand of himself.

When they drive past a bowling green, Mitch thinks of Alyssa and her simple enjoyment of the sport. It’s perhaps a stupid thing to come to his mind, but it proves to him that, because he loves her so much, he sees her everywhere. Now that the cricket is done, it’s come to the point of the tour when all Mitch craves is being home with her. A number of schools line the route to the airport. Then, they hit the highway and Mitch narrows his eyes a little, wondering what he can spot. There aren’t lions wandering along the roadside, although he wouldn’t necessarily expect that he would see that. After all, Mitch knows that there aren’t really kangaroos hopping along the streets of Australia.

Finally, though, he notices a gleaming aeroplane, touching down at OR Tambo International Airport. The team bus crosses the bridge over the train tracks, then comes to a halt. Mitch looks at Pat again, as Josh stays in place, along with the rest of the team. Slowly, he stands, with Mitch alongside. He guides Pat off the bus, before their teammates and support staff follow after them.  
“We’ll get your bags,” Josh promises.  
Mitch is glad, thanking him with a stolen smile over his shoulder. Despite his joking, Josh is kind. Mitch helps Pat out of the heat and into the airport terminal, through the automatic doors.   
“Thanks, mate,” Pat says, once they’re close to being alone.

Mitch breathes in through his nose and pans his eyes around slowly.  
“You’re welcome,” he eventually replies. “It’s the least I can do. We’re all here for you, we know what you’ve been through.”  
Mitch shifts his hand, offering a brief squeeze of Pat’s shoulder.  
“I just,” he speaks up, voice thin.   
Mitch feels his eyes pricked by threatening tears, his heart breaking for Pat and the news he might uncover when he returns home.  
“I don’t want to be broken anymore,” Pat cries. “I want to be fixed again.”

+

Mitch lingers by the side of the bed, after returning home to silence and darkness. He’s watching Alyssa sleep. She’s impossibly beautiful, so serene as she lies on her side and her abdomen rises and falls with every peaceful breath. Mitch is grateful to be able to call her his girlfriend, and there’s a smile on his face as he snuggles into bed bedside her.   
This is their bedroom, in their apartment, that’s all theirs. And Teddy’s, of course. The dog is curled up on the end of the bed, just side Mitch’s feet. He feels so peaceful, even amongst the darkness and silence of their house. He loves it, the quietness. It’s just what Mitch needs, considering that he’s not one to sleep with noise. 

Alyssa’s different, but she must have been exhausted from studying all day and training all night. He doesn’t envy her, the workload that she’s forced to take on. He would give anything to make it easier for her, but it’s not within his capabilities to move heaven and earth for her. He still wishes that he could, though, and that’s what he’ll be dreaming of once he drifts off to sleep that night. Mitch shifts, so that her warm body is against his.   
“I love you,” Alyssa murmurs, sleeping.  
“I love you too,” Mitch promises instantly.  
It’s the only thing that he’s sure of, and it’s the only thing that he needs to hold true.

+

When Mitch hears a knock at the door, he expects that Alyssa will have arrived, but when it opens the door, it’s Pat who is standing there. At first, he wears a smile of bemusement, but his face falls as soon as he notices his younger teammate’s expression. There are dark circles around Pat’s eyes which sorry Mitch instantly.  
“Come inside, mate,” he invites.  
Mitch steps aside, looking down, so that Pat can enter. He wordlessly obliges, before he closes the door again.  
“Thanks, mate,” Pat replies.

“What’s the matter?” Mitch wants to know.   
“Um, if I tell you,” Pat begins.  
He walks, unsteady on his feet, towards the lounge.  
“Will you promise not to tell anyone?” Pat requests.  
“Yes,” Mitch vows.  
He doesn’t know whether or not this is a good idea.

+

Mitch has kept his word to Pat. He doesn’t even tell Alyssa the truth about what’s unfolding in the younger fast bowler’s life. All Mitch divulges is that Pat’s needing a friend right now, especially given his young age. He suspects that Alyssa believes that it’s in relation to his back injury. Mitch doesn’t believe that it would be his place to correct her, so he doesn’t say a word.  
“Becky’s flying to Australia,” Pat divulges, when he’s sitting on Mitch’s lounge, their own piece of furniture.  
His fingers are clutched around a chilled cup of wine, but Mitch doesn’t think that he’s taken a sip.  
“When’s she getting here?” he wants to know.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Pat supplies, after a blink.  
Without looking at it, he swills the wine without his glass, but he still doesn’t take a sip. Mitch starts to think that that’s probably wise, and is starting to regret offering alcohol to fix the teenager’s problems. He’s not going to now withdraw it, though.  
“I’ll drive you to the airport if you’d like,” Mitch suggests, saying it before he thinks properly. “That way, I could just do laps and you wouldn’t have to pay for parking out there.”  
It might not be wise, given that Pat might want some privacy.  
“Thank you, that would help,” he replies. “Yeah, thanks, Mitch.”  
Finally, something of a smile comes to Pat’s lips, and Mitch is glad. He wants to be able to tell the younger man that everything will sort itself out and work out alright, but he can’t be certain about that. Mitch thinks about how long the flight will take from Leeds.

+

Mitch decides to appreciate the drive to collect Pat. It’s taking him back beyond the suburbs where he grew up. Mitch isn’t looking forward to the traffic heading back into the airport, nor the discomfort of the trip back home, when he’s a chauffeur pretending not to listen. Nonetheless, he’s willing to do whatever he can to help his friend. Mitch arrives at Pat’s family home and parks out the front. He’s just about to emerge from the car when Pat makes himself seen from out behind the hedge. He walks gingerly towards the car, opening the door for himself and sliding with a grimace onto the passenger seat. It hurts Mitch to see his young friend in so much pain.

“Thank you for driving me,” Pat insists, as Mitch moves back onto the driver’s seat.  
He fastens his seatbelt once again and adjusts his rear vision mirror.  
“It’s not a worry,” Mitch reassures.  
He wishes that he didn’t have to. That’s only because Mitch would rather that Pat is well. They drive in silence, motoring down the grey highway. Mitch doesn’t talk, because he wants to give Pat the chance, to air his fears. He would hold them too, and it’s made clearer for the younger man.

+

Now that it’s over, Mitch feels comfortable to tell Alyssa, before he leaves for Brisbane. He feels like he owes it to her, to know exactly why he’s needed to dedicate so much time to Pat in recent days. They should have been enjoying their first days in their new apartment together, but instead Mitch has been a confidant to another man. He and Alyssa sit with beers, soaking in the last of the spring sun.  
“Pat and I,” Mitch speaks up, “haven’t been spending so much time together because of his back injury.”  
Alyssa nods her head slowly, looking straight at him with a little trepidation.

Mitch is worried that she is concerned for him and what he’s about to reveal.  
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad,” he reassures, reaching across and placing his hand on her thigh. “Pat’s fine. He, um, you know how I told you that he’s dating an English girl?”  
Alyssa grins, a little cheekily. Mitch is glad, that she doesn’t seem as worried anymore.  
“Yeah,” Alyssa confirms. “They met in South Africa. You provided some sage advice. Trust me, I’ve heard that whole story, you’re not good at keeping secrets.”  
That’s the sort of thing that Mitch would speak about with only Alyssa.

Even talking about it now, he blushes a little and smiles to disguise his embarrassment.  
“Yeah,” Mitch affirms, a little breathless. “Well, we were worried that my advice wasn’t that great.”  
He studies Alyssa’s expression, as her eyes widen and her lips slip a little further apart.  
“Were?” she notes. “And you didn’t tell me . . .”

Alyssa trails off.  
“Pat told me not to,” Mitch confesses.  
He’s worried that he’s upset the woman he loves, for betraying his honesty.  
“So,” Alyssa asks, “were you driving them?”

“Just for Pat to get Becky from the airport,” Mitch explains, “then I think that’s when, you know, she figured out that she wasn’t after all.”  
Alyssa gapes again. It’s only then when Mitch realises the assumption she made.  
“Oh,” he gulps. “You thought that she, you thought that they--.  
Mitch shakes his head. His hand slips from Alyssa’s thigh.  
“No,” Mitch insists. “It just turned out that she wasn’t, after all, she wasn’t ever.”  
They look at each other for a moment.  
“Alright,” Alyssa agrees. “I made a mistake, I’m sorry, I misinterpreted what you said.”

Mitch breathes out and tenderly brushes his fingers against her knee. He loves her totally, and the way in which he thinks, but she’s taken up a little off-guard.  
“That’s alright,” Mitch permits. “I probably should have been more clear.”  
He’s comfortable placing the blame on himself.  
“I mean, they’re nineteen,” Mitch notes. “They live in different countries and have only just gotten together, so it probably wouldn’t have been ideal.”  
Alyssa bobs her head once. Feeling that the conversation has ended through her agreement, Mitch sits back.

“I don’t envy them,” Alyssa reveals. “What we’d do, I don’t know.”  
She’s not looking at Mitch, instead staring out into the darkness.  
“I would like to think that we wouldn’t have to cross that bridge,” he decides.  
Alyssa looks at Mitch again, chin over her shoulder as a grin comes onto her lips.

“Yeah,” she confirms. “We’re young and we’re both playing cricket.”  
That’s all that Mitch and Alyssa need in their lives.  
“And if we did?” Mitch questions, not sure which answer he’ll get.  
“We won’t,” Alyssa insists.

+

It’s later on, right before Mitch heads to Brisbane, that he checks in with Pat again.  
“Can I tell you something, Mitch?” he confesses, with a frank and exhausted tone of voice.  
Mitch nods his head, willing to allow Pat to speak the truth of his mind.  
“I know that I wouldn’t have been able to offer anything,” he admits.

Mitch wants to protest and reassure him.  
“But, still, considering everything that’s happened,” Pat divulges, “it would have been a welcome distraction.”  
Mitch’s eyes suddenly widen with surprise.  
“Maybe I would have been happy to jump right in, to something else that isn’t cricket.”  
Mitch realises, which hits him like a punch, that Pat almost feels cheated by his own relief. Maybe this is just part of everything that’s not fine.  
“Well, mate,” Mitch replies, not quite sure what to say.

He reaches over and briefly pats his knee.  
“You’ve still got plenty of cricket left in you,” Mitch reassures, even though, when he meets Pat’s eyes, he’s not sure if either of them believe it.  
Pat offers a weak smile which Mitch returns.  
“And you’re lucky, as am I,” he attests. “We’ve got good people in our lives, who help to get us through.”


	4. Chapter 4

On the second afternoon in Brisbane, Mitch, as twelfth man, is given the duty, when they get the inside word that play has been abandoned without a ball bowled, to go and tell their partners. He’s not sure if there will be anyone left, to be perfectly honest, given that it’s poured rain all day and there hasn’t been much for them to do at all. The paying crowd has been dispersing throughout the afternoon as they allow themselves to lose hope. Mitch knows that, soon enough, the news will be announced via the big screen. Then, the rest of them will leave. They’ll trudge back home, with little comfort provided by knowing that they’ll get a full refund.

They came to see arguably the best two teams in the world play. Instead, all they have been treated to has been puddles. Mitch reckons that he’ll head down afterwards. He’ll need permission, of course, but he hopes that he’ll be granted it. Maybe if Mitch just doesn’t ask, he can’t be told that the answer is no. He reaches the door to the corporate box that their wives and girlfriends have been afforded and clenches his hand into a fist to knock on the door. Mitch uses his right hand, his non-bowling hand. He does it instinctively, but he can’t be taking any chances. Even when he’s not in the playing eleven. Especially when he’s not in the playing eleven, when he doesn’t have any rewards yet.

It’s Virginia, Ed’s wife, who opens the door, baby Romy in her arms. Mitch smiles at the sight of the baby girl. She looks so tiny, and yet she’s grown so much since the very first photo that he saw of her.  
“Hello,” Virginia greets him warmly. “How are you, Mitchell?”  
“I’m very well, thank you,” Mitch replies.

+

In the end, Mitch doesn’t leave the corporate box as soon as he delivers the message. Instead, he stays, while the rain continues to fall, because Virginia’s engaging in with conversation. She passes Romy into Mitch’s arms and he watches the baby closely while he holds her. He has four younger siblings, so he doesn’t feel daunted. In fact, Mitch is smiling at the baby girl. She looks like her father, he reckons. Mitch is guilty of being a little distracted, not quite understanding properly what Virginia is saying to him.  
“I like to think about these things,” he finally picks up on. “What sustains you when all else fades away? I guess that that’s a question for each person.”  
Mitch doesn’t say it out loud, but he has to admit to himself that he doesn’t know the answer. He’s been told to define himself through cricket, but it’s a day when rain is pouring down and he’s not in the side.

+

It’s a quiet dinner for their nearest and dearest, to celebrate Mitch’s new home with Alyssa. This is just the way that he wants it to be, being able to spend the day preparing the flat before making a meal which they share altogether. Mitch likes to cook, Alyssa doesn’t. They complement each other well, he reckons filling in the gaps where the other is lacking. After the meal, Mitch is looking forward to dessert, prepared by his mother. It’ll be delicious, he knows, because she’s an even better cook than he is. Mitch will even indulge himself with ice cream and a dusting of chocolate. He likes being able to do that, given how often he denies himself. On this night, Mitch isn’t Mitchell Starc the cricketer, if he’s able to compartmentalise his identity like that, especially so easily.

There are so many other thing which make him up. Some, quiet days, Mitch believes that they’re the most important. Deep down, it’s what he thinks is true, because that’s what will remain when all else fades away. Mitch remembers that challenge being made to him, by Virginia at the Gabba, during their chance conversation when they met in the hallway. She’s certainly a wise woman and Ed’s lucky to be able to call her his wife. Mitch is a lucky man, too, knowing that he’s building a home with Alyssa – all spark and substance, a woman that he’s deeply in love with. He’s beaming when he looks at her, and he knows how much happiness it brings his mother, that he’s happy. It’s indescribable, and that what, in Mitch’s eyes, make it real and everlasting. That’s what they’re celebrating.

+

Mitch could have batted for eternity on that day, at the WACA. It’s only when Garry is dismissed that a bittersweet feeling settles over him. Ricky is gone. He’ll never play another Test match for Australia again. This is the end of the road, and Mitch isn’t sure what comes next. He settles into the routine of the end of a match after a terrible and comprehensive defeat. Mitch shakes hands with the South Africans, who have lined up. De Villiers. Amla. Du Plessis. Morkel. Philander. Peterson. Elgar. Smith. Petersen. Steyn. Kallis. They’re all legends of the game, or getting that way. The South Africans seem like kind men, though, who love playing cricket together.  
“They’re who we used to be,” Ricky murmurs, catching Mitch by surprise by his presence.

He looks to the former captain. Mitch isn’t sure what he’s meant to say, or if he’s supposed to be listening. A question forms in his mind, one which he doesn’t voice aloud. If the South Africans are who the Australians used to be, then who are the Australians now, and what can Mitch do about that? Ricky can’t, despite all that he has done, because he’s retired. Maybe that’s why he’s going, because he’s reached the end of his tether. Mitch wonders what that feels like, but he decides that he doesn’t want to know, just in case he craves it. They stand around for a while. Ricky leaves shortly after.

He’s beckoned by his family, wife and two adorable little girls joining him on the field. For some reason, Mitch remembers that Rianna’s dress is bright yellow. He feels a little embarrassed when he watches husband and wife embrace. Mitch doesn’t know anybody in the world who loves his wife more than Ricky loves Rianna. Still, he’s a private man, and this is a private moment, even though there are thousands of people watching. Expression reserved, Mitch looks away, and thinks of Alyssa. Hopefully when she retires, one day in the extremely distant future, he’ll be there for her, too. Mitch finds himself becoming mesmerising by the Channel Nine technicians, setting up for the post-match presentation.

Coils and coils of black cords are yanked out over the field, plugged into cameras, machines and microphones. Red and white cardboard, etched with sponsors’ logos, is erected behind a small stage, held up by human hands in spite of the intensifying wind. Mitch is joined by some of his Australian teammates.  
“Starcy,” Wadey allows. “Go and have a shower if you’d like.”  
“I’m alright,” Mitch insists.  
He is, truthfully, even though he’s drenched with sweat. Mitch doesn’t know what will happen when he finally undresses from his batting gear, but he fears it.

He’s fairly confident that that will unlock him from his innings. That’s not a risk which Mitch is willing to take, given that he wants to stay in the moment, and hold onto this final match of Ricky’s career for as long as he can. Wadey stays, looking a little perplexed, but that’s not something that concerns him, right now. Mitch glances around, looking up into the stands and at that majestic hill. That’s a feature which he appreciates about the WACA. Maybe it’ll disappear in the future with supposed progress, but everything around Mitch is moving on to something else, while he’s standing still. He remembers the hill at the SCG, something that’s been replaced for years by concrete grandstands with green plastic seats.

It’s sterile and built, but it’s what they must accept now, as time and commercial interests move on faster than tradition. With Ricky’s comments in his mind, he glances over towards where the South African team are assembling. Mitch spots Morne, who has become something of a friend to him, throughout the tour. He wants to speak with him before he heads back to Cape Town. This, though, is unlikely to be the time and place for that kind of conversation. Hopefully, the teams will join each other for a beer after the match. Mitch is already looking forward to it. They’re just men, after all, with a lot more in common than they realise. All of a sudden, the presentation gets underway, and Mitch needs to concentrate again.

+

Mitch isn’t quite sure what time it is when he returns to the hotel. It’s likely sometime the next morning. Mitch knows that he’s drunk, which sometimes makes him think too much and other times not enough. Barely able to keep his eyes open, he rests his cheek against the door. It’s not quiet on the other side, which doesn’t tell Mitch much about whether or not Alyssa is awake. She’s a young woman who needs noise to sleep, which is the opposite of Mitch. He’s tired enough, though, that he doesn’t think it’s going to bother him right now. Mitch drops his hand into the pocket of his trousers, still wearing the creams which he batted in, many hours before. He reaches for the key card to unlock the door, hoping that it’s somewhere.

Thankfully, Alyssa opens the door for Mitch before he can contemplate that he might have lost it. He stumbles through the doorway into her arms.  
“Mitch,” Alyssa breathes. “Are you alright?”  
“Yeah, yeah,” Mitch agrees, beginning to smile.  
Alyssa makes sure that he’s not going to fall over.  
“I’m just very, very tired,” Mitch admits.   
He slumps onto the bed as soon as he reaches it, not caring how much space he takes up.


	5. Chapter 5

Joe’s blue eyes burst open. They dart across to the alarm clock. It’s positioned atop the chest of drawers by the bed, still mostly empty of Joe’s possessions. Of course it’s blaring, given the precision with which he set it the night before. Joe slams his fingers down on the snooze button. His mind needs a little respite. After all, Joe could be able to spend the whole day in the field, under the sweltering sun. Still, it would be a whole day in the field for England. Joe will be receiving his cap, his very first cap, soon, once they’ve arrived at the ground. He emerges from bed, just as the alarm blasts again. Joe switches it off for good, because he knows that he won’t be going back to sleep in a hurry.

It’s still a little strange for him, to be in a hotel room by himself on a tour, given that he’s used to rooming with Yorkshire. Still, Joe doesn’t feel lonely. He’s lived alone in Leeds for long enough that he’s grown accustomed to silence, and his own company. Joe tries to treat this day like any other day of cricket, even though he hopes that it will be the greatest day of cricket of his life. Before heading for the shower, he briefly checks his phone. England’s still hours behind, but there are messages waiting. Joe thinks that he ought to call his parents, but he reckons that he should check the time difference. He doesn’t think that they would mind, but still, he doesn’t want to disrespect them by waking them up. Joe checks the World Clock on his phone, which tells him that it would still be far too early in the morning back in Dore, being about five hours behind the time in Nagpur. He’ll call his parents later, because he knows that they love him. Instead, Joe heads for the shower, to prepare himself for a day’s cricket. This is his Test debut, and he’s going to savour every moment.

+

As KP clips a delivery from Jadeja to Ojha on 73, Joe grabs his helmet. He pushes down the chinstrap and fits the lid over his blonde hair. There’s quiet applause from Joe’s new England teammates, although he’s not quite sure whether they’re clapping him, entering the playing arena, or KP, who is coming off. He watches every step in front of him. As KP passes Joe at the bottom of the stairs, he briefly taps him on the shoulder in encouragement.  
“Go well, mate,” he encourages.  
Joe offers a smile, but neither of them stop walking, heading for the middle and the dressing room respectively.

As he strides across the turf, he can feel the sun beating against his back. Joe looks straight ahead, towards where Matt is approaching him. He places one hand on his shoulder and leads him towards the crease.  
“We’re in a bit of trouble here,” Matt notes.  
Joe could have figured that out without having to be told.  
“It’s not a bad pitch for batting, though,” Matt insists.


	6. Chapter 6

Mitch glances around at Bellerive Oval, or Blundstone Arena as it’s now supposed to be called. He actually doesn’t mind that name that much. Sure, it’s a sponsorship thing, but Mitch knows that money has to come into the game somehow. Of all the sponsors’ names, it’s not that bad. Although, to Mitch, the Hobart ground will always be the Oval in Bellerive. As evening closes in, he tosses the ball up in the air in front of his face and catches it again in one hand, without looking. Mitch reaches the top of his mark. He bowls again to Prasanna Jayawardene, still ruing the four he took him for off the first ball. This time, the wicketkeeper hits Mitch’s delivery for two, getting himself back onto strike.

It’s the way it’s going, runs or nothing, given that so many of the Australian fielders have been brought in close. Mitch bowls again, the ball hitting the edge of the bat and lobbing onto the turf. Next time, the length ball bounces a bit more, hitting the glove. Mitch raises his arms above his head as Huss takes the catch, then he pumps a single fist. Seven wickets down, only three remaining for the Australians to take, to win the Test match to begin the series. The Sri Lankans’ hopes are fading with the evening light in Hobart. Mitch’s teammates crowd in around him. They share high-fives, although they’re all aware that the task is not yet complete. Rangana Herath comes in, and Mitch likes his chances, just quietly. Three slips, gully, short leg, silly point, leg gully. Mitch bowls a length ball. Off the edge, Herath achieves a bottom edge. It falls close to the stumps, although the ball just manages to stay away. Mitch is applauded by the small Hobart crowd, for taking a wicket off the over.


	7. Chapter 7

Joe is sitting in the away dressing rooms in Mumbai, padded up and ready to bat if he’s needed, even though there’s only one over remaining in his debut Twenty20 International match. If he doesn’t bat, he won’t be one little bit disappointed. Eoin and Jos are out in the middle, and hopefully they will bring England home. Nine runs required, six deliveries remaining. Dinda will be bowling it, and Joe knows that he’ll only be trying for yorkers. Surely Eoin and Jos out in the middle are aware of that, too, but execution is another matter altogether – for both the bowler and the batsmen. The first ball is full, of course. It’s bowled outside off stump and Eoin clears his front leg.

He heaves at the ball, but can only manage to hit it away for one run, towards long-on. Once Eoin and Jos have jogged through for the single which brings the man from Somerset back onto strike, their captain lifts up his bat. He’s carefully examining the toe, the lowest part of his blade which he had used to strike that last ball. Then, Eoin’s frantically gesturing towards the dressing room, where Joe is sitting. Soon enough, it’s figured out what their captain means, that he’s split his bat. Eoin requires a replacement, and it’s in situations like these that Joe’s glad he’s playing. He remains in his seat, rather than having to fossick through Eoin’s coffin. When a replacement is finally obtained, it’s jogged out onto the field, along with chilled bottles of water.

+

Joe and Jos are sitting together, but not close enough for their knees to brush against each other.   
“Now, debutant,” Jos proposes. “What would you like to do this evening?”  
Joe tilts his head towards the bottle in his hand.  
“Finish this off, for a start,” he answers.

Mostly, Joe’s providing himself with time to think, because he’s not entirely sure how he’d like to spend the night.  
“That sounds,” Jos replies, “like a very good idea indeed.”  
Joe looks around, to see if his friend has a drink of his own. He can’t see one.  
“Do you have a drink?” Joe asks.  
“Not at the moment,” Jos admits.  
“Well,” Joe proposes, “would you like one?”

Joe casually shrugs his shoulders.  
“It’s poor form on my part to be sitting here keeping on drinking while you’ve got nothing,” he admits.  
“Now that you’ve said it,” Jos concedes with a smile, “I could do with another cider.”  
“You could always do with another cider, Jossy,” Joe quips.  
He’s wearing a joyous smile. Perhaps, though, the alcohol is starting to get to Joe, even though he hasn’t drunk much.  
“Hey,” Jos replies, but his smile indicates that he’s not truly offended by Joe’s insinuation, so he grins back.

They lock eyes for a moment, before it’s the man from Somerset who glances away first, searching out for the man behind the bar.   
“Sorry to bother you, could I please order a cider?” Jos requests.  
The barman bobs his head and turns around to fetch a chilled bottle from the fridge. Joe looks down. He pats his pockets in search of his wallet, given that he’s confident that he has it with him, even though it had been Jos who paid for his first drink, insisting that the debutant required special treatment. Joe hadn’t thought that it worked that way. Yet, he is grateful, because he prefers politeness than the hard tasks that other debutants might have been given.

Joe finally locates his wallet and opens his pocket to fetch it, placing it on the bar. He flips it open, while the barman opens the fridge door and squats down, studying the labels on the bottles. Finally, he selects the cider that Jos requested, then stands back up. Jos is smiling, and Joe notices that he’s retrieved his own wallet.  
“My shout, lad,” he insists, brushing his hand against Jos’. “You shouted me my first.”  
“Thank you, but this isn’t my first,” Jos reminds.  
“So that means you’ve already paid for one too many,” Joe retorts.  
They share a smile with each other, to prove that they’re not arguing. 

The barman simply stares at them. It’s Joe who finally takes the initiative, handing over the correct money to the barman. He accepts it, in exchange for the bottle of cider, which he places in Jos’ hands.  
“Thank you,” he replies, then removes the lid and takes a first, hearty sip.  
Joe watches Jos’ lips, effortlessly shaping around the opening of the bottle. He blushes a little when he realises that he’s staring. It’s only, though, because it’s harder to make conversation with Jos when he’s drinking. 

+

After the Twenty20 International series, England head home. The India tour is not yet complete, though. It’s strange, but understandable, that the players would return home from Christmas, before setting off again for the one-day series in mid-January. Joe sits at the airport in Mumbai, with the squad but isolated from the public, waiting to be called to board the plane. He smiles, when he spots Jos wandering over, to sit down opposite him.  
“Sore head?” Jos asks.  
Narrowing his eyes, Joe shakes his head, which he means genuinely.  
“No,” he answers. “I only had one drink. You only had two.”

“That’s true,” Jos concedes.  
He laughs.  
“Maybe I just can’t hold my liquor,” Jos remarks.  
“Oh,” Joe replies, coyly. “I think that you can.”

They both laugh.  
“It was nice, though,” Joe admits, with far too much frankness.  
Maybe he thinks that he’s fallen into a film.  
“Yeah,” Jos agrees, flashes that dreamy smile again. “It was really, really nice.”  
They’re studying each other with their eyes. It’s all that Joe knows that they can do, sitting there in the airport, waiting for the plane that will take them home.


	8. Chapter 8

It’s Christmas Eve in Melbourne, and Mitch is away from home despite the knowledge that he won’t be playing in the Test match. He steps out onto the balcony of their hotel room. Barefoot, Mitch pads across the tiles and reaches the glass railing. Hunching over a little, he curls his fingers around the balustrade. Mitch’s head is swirling from the events of the day and what he knows is to come. Likely given that the end of the day has come, it won’t be until Christmas Day that his resting from the team will become known. It barely makes it worth it to have Christmas away from his family. Thankfully, Mitch has Alyssa with him, but he’s conflicted over her sacrifice, for no greater good.

He knows that his body has been sore after Hobart. That’s become so expected for Mitch that he barely even notices it. Perhaps it’s that which angers him the most, if that’s the right word. It’s not up to Mitch, but if it was, he would just bowl and bowl – and he would be wrong. It just so happens that the right time is precisely the wrong time. Right now is when Mitch craves to be able to prove himself with the ball, to allow his pace and swing to do the talking when his words and tweets have failed him. To back up on his five wicket haul in the dying light at Bellerive, skittling the Sri Lankan tail just when holding on for a draw seemed possible. 

For Mitch’s best efforts to be with his bowling, rather than defending his teammates in unexpected press conferences. To do something – anything – so remarkable that of course he’s going to get Shane Warne off his back. Boxing Day would have been just the stage for it, too. That’s Warnie’s paradise, but instead he’ll be carrying the drinks and still away from his family for Christmas. Yet, Alyssa is with him, and Mitch can’t help but feel comforted when she steps out onto the balcony.

+

The steps leading from the dressing rooms at the Sydney Cricket Ground are deep, yet short, so they suit Mitch’s gait. He strides down them, fiddling with his sunglasses as he moves them from his eyes, towards the field. Mitch reaches for Alyssa’s hand and grasps it, grateful for her presence. The Sydney Cricket Ground is sacred ground for the love of his life, too. Together, they amble towards the turf, arms swinging. Mitch smiles, reminded of their childhood, of stolen moments holding each other’s hands, and then of their younger years, enjoying a touch that was foreign until they learned it from each other. He giggles and shares a gaze with Alyssa. Together, they step out onto the field, then scroll towards the site of the Australian victory, earlier in the day.

Mitch and Alyssa don’t have long together, before they will leave again, to return to the hotel where Huss will be with his family, or to follow Pup and his wife wherever they’re travelling. He isn’t sure what they’ll do. A shudder brushes over Mitch, trying not to think of the incidental conflict that never should have been, that still isn’t resolved. He and Alyssa continue. They reach the pitch, ducking under the ropes that around it, while they slip off their shoes and carry them in their hands. The turf is abrasive, on the centre square, under Mitch’s aching feet. With smiles on their faces, he and Alyssa turn to each other. Mitch’s fingers slip through her hair as they share a kiss.

Then, Alyssa grins mischievously.  
“Race you back,” she dares, and sprints off towards the Members Pavilion, hurtling the rope.   
Laughing, Mitch steps over it a little more carefully, scurries after the beautiful woman with the breeze catching her blonde hair, collecting her shoes one after the other where she dropped them.

Alyssa halts when she reaches the boundary rope. Mitch eventually reaches her, and then kiss again before linking hands once more. They step back over the boundary rope together, to stride back towards the dressing rooms. There aren’t too many players, nor families, left behind there. In fact, once Wadey leaves with his fiancée, they’re alone. Alyssa gazes around at the Australian dressing rooms, wide-eyed. She’s stepped about half a metre away from Mitch. Still, they keep holding hands, fingers tightly linked. It hits Mitch that, despite Alyssa’s international experience, these rooms are largely forbidden territory in that arena. They’re not alien to her, though, given the matches that New South Wales play. Mitch suspects that he recognises the cheeky grin on her lips when she finally turns back to face him, pressing up onto the tips of her toes before lowering herself back onto the soles of her feet again. Neither of them has put their shoes back on since leaving the field. Alyssa wanders closer to Mitch. She almost stubs her toes against the carpet. Alyssa doesn’t even grimace, though, so Mitch suspects she has an idea.


	9. Chapter 9

Mitch’s head is pounding when he wakes up, not because he’s drunk too much the night before. To the contrary, he has been very tame for letting his hair down at the end of a series. Even Huss’ retirement hasn’t made a dent, especially with the one-day series looming, a one-day series which Huss has been omitted from the squad for. Teddy jumps up onto the bed with a thud which startles Mitch, yet he reaches out without looking for his dog, running his fingers over her back. Alyssa is no longer in bed, but he can hear her, pottering around in the kitchen. The television is on, and Mitch listens to the commentary for long enough that he can decipher that it’s highlights of a match between England and India, which finally causes him to rise from bed with a fond smile on his lips. Of course Alyssa would be watching that, the cricket nuffie that she is, even if it’s only just background noise while she cooks. She appreciates noise, at all hours, much more than Mitch does. That’s just one of the little lessons that Mitch has learned since they moved in together, sometime at the end of the year before, somewhere between Yorkshire and South Africa and beyond.

+

Hughesy puts on a show at the Melbourne Cricket Ground. It’s majestic, and Mitch enjoys the innings from the dressing rooms. He never feels like it could ever end. Until it does, of course, only in the thirty-ninth over. Mitch is on his feet with the rest of the MCG, beaming with pride. He applauds Hughesy all the way off the field, before ruffling his sweaty hair when he returns to the dressing room. Far too quickly, the match continues. Mitch sits down again, realigning himself by looking at the large video screen masquerading as a scoreboard. They’re still two wickets away from him needing to think about padding up, two wickets which hopefully won’t be taken by the Sri Lankans. For the meantime, Mitch can relax, enjoying his teammates’ craft from the cool comfort of the viewing area.

For all of the pains of bowling, that’s a luxury. Batsmen, on the other hand, have to stand in the field while Mitch goes about his own craft. As the wicket fell off the end of the over, George is on strike for the next, facing Kulasekera. He clips the ball behind square and runs through for two. Mitch studies the bowling, as much as he can from the distance of the viewing area. Conditions will change, of course. Mitch will bowl under lights, with a newer ball. The pitch will have aged, even if just a little, through the wear and tear of the rest of the Australian innings. Nonetheless, Mitch respects Kulasekera and wants to learn from him what he can, while he has the chance. Soon enough, Hughesy returns from the showers in a fresh shirt and Mitch greets him with a grin.


	10. Chapter 10

Joe doesn’t feel like a debutant, although Jos insists on calling him one. He’s trying to treat his first One-Day International for England like just another match. It’s the third, of three, format in which Joe has played for his country. The setting for this momentous occasion is India, the ground in Rajkot. It’s a day-night match and, upon winning the toss, Alastair elects to bat first, allowing Joe to ease himself into the match. His England cap certainly feels good on his head. When Joe reaches the dressing room, though, he removes it from covering his blonde hair and holds it in his hands as he finds a seat from which to watch the opening overs.

He continues to hold his cap in his palms, marvelling at the fact that it’s his. Joe’s pencilled in to bat at number seven, in some ways as a spin-bowling all-rounder, even though his off-breaks aren’t exactly polished. He finds bowling a little stressful at times, until he takes a wicket and then everything becomes better. Just before the first ball is bowled, Joe hears the scraping of metal against concrete. His eyes move to the left, where Jos is pulling up a chair. He’s wearing a yellow vest, because he’s not playing, but he’s still smiling.  
“Good morning,” Joe greets him.

Jos sits down.  
“Good afternoon,” he corrects politely, “debutant.”  
Joe giggles.  
“You keep calling me that,” he points out.

“Well,” Jos reasons, raising his palms, facing upwards, and lowering them. “You are the debutant, aren’t you?”  
“Yes,” Joe confirms, nodding his head slowly. “I am the debutant indeed.”  
He doesn’t say anything more. Jos falls silent, too, as their blue eyes are directed towards the field, to watch Alastair and Belly opening the innings for the three lions. Joe’s eyes scan around the ground, while the crowd is roaring with passion. Bhuvneshwar Kumar is taking the new ball and Alastair lets his first delivery go through to Dhoni, rather than being tempted to nibble at it.

“So, you’re an opening batsman for Yorkshire,” Jos states.  
Joe isn’t sure whether he’s asking him or telling him. He relaxes in his seat, although his hands to separate themselves from his cap. Joe glances over his shoulder and looks at Jos, who shuffles his seat closer.  
“Yeah, lad,” he finally confirms. “In red-ball cricket, at least. I bat down the order a little bit in the white-ball stuff, at three or four, so that the dashers can open up.”  
A mischievous smile creeps onto Jos’ lips, one that Joe recognises as being close to his own.  
“And you wouldn’t continue yourself a dasher, Joe?” Jos checks.

“Well,” Joe reasons, “I do my best. I’m not that sort of dasher, well, at least I don’t try to be. I know that, in fifty-over cricket especially, building an innings is really important and that’s what I aim to do.”  
Jos nods his head once.  
“That’s fair enough,” he replies.  
Joe feels like Jos has more to say, although he stops speaking. He’s so intrigued that he turns to look at him.  
“Thank you,” Joe eventually responds, and smiles awkwardly.

“No worries,” Jos reassures, with a modest grin. “You’re most welcome, Joe.”  
He leans forward a little. Joe wonders whether Jos is about to tell him a secret, and his heart thuds faster, rather naively, he will admit to himself, given that they’re sitting in the dressing room with their teammates around, at the thought of what that might be.   
“We’re all England players, or at least trying to be,” Jos points out. “At the same time, though, we come from different backgrounds.”  
“It’s funny,” Joe admits, feeling more comfortable to be frank around Jos. “I’ve played all these lads before. Well, at least some of them.”

Jos shrugs his shoulders.  
“See, we’re not that scary,” he points out.  
“Yeah, I didn’t think that,” Joe insists, not quite sure what he’s trying to say anymore. “I did think, though, that it would be hard to make friends, but that’s not true. It’s easier than I thought that it would be, at least.”


	11. Chapter 11

Joe is standing in the field during the Indian first innings. He’s glancing around the field at Kochi, soaking in the atmosphere of the large and looming crowd. Kohli’s batting with Rahane, in the fifth over. Joe spots the dressing room for no reason in particular, and Jos is sitting there. He’s focused something random that he can’t quite decipher, especially given how far away he is. Yet, Jos then looks up, to meet Joe’s eyes, as if he could tell that he has been watched. They share a brief smile. Joe doesn’t wave, in case he’s misconstrued. Then, he hunches over and turns his attention back to the cricket. Finny is bowling to Rahane. Joe creeps in to his position while he runs in and bowls, a good-length ball. Joe’s eyes and lips widen when the delivery bowls Rahane. Fist-pumping and yelling, he rushes in as the batsman trudges from the field, still serene despite his dismissal. Joe’s not playing too much attention to the batsman, though. It’s a figure coming onto the field that instead attracts his attention, as Jos approaches with drinks.

+

After the match, the English players return to their hotel, mostly finding themselves sprawled around the downstairs bar. Alastair disappears, though, not providing Joe with the opportunity to seek him out, to chew the fat all night over Jadeja’s arm ball. He’s almost about to retire himself, head up to bed and get an early night, when the captain returns. Alastair has changed his clothes, now wearing a striped T-shirt and dark jeans, his hair almost flattened against his scalp, rather than appearing spiky or fluffy. Joe walks over to speak with him, but first he’s intercepted. It’s Kiesy who steps into his path.  
“Hey,” he greets Joe, sounding a little awkward.

He’s a little concerned, not quite sure what Kiesy wants to talk to him about, if anything at all.  
“Do you feel like a beer, Rooty?” he wants to know.  
Joe doesn’t really want a beer, unless their captain makes the suggestion, but he didn’t suspect that Alastair would.  
“Alright,” he finds himself agreeing, “if you’re paying.”  
There’s a cheeky smirk on Joe’s lips.


	12. Chapter 12

Mitch is shaking his head with a wry smile on his lips as he walks out to bat at the Gabba, holding the blade of his bat in his gloved hands. He can barely believe the scorecard, it’s been a long, long time since he’s come out to bat in such a scenario. Sure, Mitch recalls facing such a scorecard in junior cricket, but that was a long time ago. He approaches Wadey, who’ll be on strike, with an incredulous laugh. That sums up the situation better than words, anyway. Wadey lets the ball go, which is fair enough given the circumstances. He hits the next ball from Kulasekara along the ground, but picks out the midwicket fielder and cannot score.

Mitch scurries back behind the crease, having found himself creeping forward. The last thing that they need right now is a run out like that. Mitch clears his throat and hunches over a little, staying alert. Wadey hits the next delivery along the ground, firmly but straight to the fielder at midwicket.  
“No run,” he calls.  
Mitch bobs his head, obeying, toe of his bat still planted behind the crease. His eyes follow Kulasekara back to his mark. Finally, Wadey plays a shot wide enough of square leg for the two of them to scurry through for two runs, keeping him on strike and compelling Mitch to pull up a little quickly at the non-striker’s end. The rest of the over plays through. No runs are scored, but no wickets fall, either, perhaps more significant at this stage. There’s still enough time left in the innings, to rebuild, if they have the chance. Mitch will then be on strike. He watches the umpire accept Malinga’s blue and gold cap, then marks his guard on middle stump.

Mitch pumps his legs then twists to stretch, then faces up. The mantra of ‘watch the ball’ runs through his mind, over and over again. Mitch receives a yorker – fast, real fast – which he himself would have been proud of bowling. He jams down on the ball, keeping it away from the stumps. There’s swing, that Mitch can identify, from a bowler’s perspective. He knows that it’ll be too late to read it by the time that he receives the ball, so he has to search for clues beforehand, perhaps from the action or the hand. That’s easier said than done, though. As a bowler, Mitch hasn’t spent too much time in the batting meetings. He achieves an inside edge off the following delivery.

The ball falls at Mitch’s feet and he leaves it there until it’s collected by a fielder. He plays a shadow-shot while the ball is thrown back to Malinga, ready to do it all again, hopefully with a better result. Mitch receives another yorker. It’s just outside the off-stump, but swinging with precision, so he’s relieved that he just manages to get his bat down in time, to keep it out. Relief is all that Mitch can muster right now, for the innings is in survival mode. The Gabba is much quieter than usual, yet there’s still the soft buzz created by a large crowd, rather than the eerie silence of Shield matches which he’s played there, punctuated by echoes of willow smacking leather at infrequent intervals throughout the long day. There are parallels in this mickey-mouse one-day international, Mitch is starting to realise. So much for the A team being back, which has dominated the news cycle which he tries to ignore. Mitch checks the large, big-screen scoreboard, but only briefly to check the amount of deliveries remaining in the over, which is three.


	13. Chapter 13

There’s gentle rain tumbling against the awning above them. Joe waits, far enough away from Jos. He doesn’t want to startle the other man with his presence. It’s after India’s comfortable victory. Again, Kiesy’s failed with the bat, not that it should matter for a wicketkeeper, and not that Joe thinks that Jos is delighting in it. He’s never wanted Jonny to do badly just so that he can play for England, even though they might be competing against each other. They’re friends, and that’s the most important thing, not individual glory. Joe believes that Jos is a better man than him, anyway. He figures that he’ll have a heavy heart, so he’s approaching with caution.

Finally, Joe steps forward, standing in place beside Jos. He says nothing, waiting for his presence to be noticed. Even as a cricketer, Joe finds the rain rather mesmerising. He’s not sure if he’d readily admit it, though. Joe does believe that he’s seen enough rain in 2012. He probably doesn’t want that to continue into 2013. Finally, Joe senses that Jos has seen that he is standing there. He’s looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but remains silent. Maybe there is nothing to say, especially seeing as they’re still at the ground. As private as the empty dressing room seems, perhaps this isn’t the place for telling the truth, after all.

“Is it time for the bus back?” Jos finally asks.  
“I’m not sure,” Joe admits.  
He doesn’t mention that he’s been there a while.  
“We should probably check,” Jos notes. “I wouldn’t want to miss it.”  
Joe laughs, not wanting to allow tension to develop between them.  
“You know,” he speaks up, “it actually would be funny, just to stay here.”  
Jos chuckles, albeit a little dismissively.  
“I do think that people would start looking for us,” he reassures.

Joe feels a little more comfortable.  
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’d hope so. I mean, you said that we wouldn’t want to miss the bus, but realistically, I don’t think that we could. Well, we could, but they wouldn’t leave without us.”  
“That’s not because we’re special,” Jos reminds.  
Joe narrows his eyes a little, looking sideways at him.  
“That’s not personal,” Jos insists, “but they would look for anyone, not just us, if we didn’t turn up for the bus to head back.”


End file.
